Killer for Hire: The Tale of Laurs the Mercenary
by UtopiaV1
Summary: This is a story of an exGuardsman named Laurs who now runs a Mercenary force called the Browncoats. They are employed to find a data slab in a ruined Imperial outpost, but things go terribly awry. If you see anything familiar, its copyright Games Workshop
1. Chapter 1

**Killers for Hire:**

**The Tale of Laurs the Mercenary**

**---------------------------------**

**The Black Crusades: Chapter One**

Laurs kept his plasma pistols aimed down the desolate corridors of the abandoned Imperial outpost. Gol raced past him, Bolter raised and ready to fire. Laurs starred at Gol's weapon as the heavily built man clunked down the wide passageway to the lift at the end, and for the millionth time wondered where the hell Gol got an authentic Space Marine pattern Bolter from. He couldn't have bought it, no trader in any system, Alpha or Delta, would even _consider_ selling a Marine bolter, for fear of the Inquisition. Gol certainly didn't scavenge it or even kill a Space Marine for it, even though his large figure and subtle strength suggested otherwise. Even the legendary Gol couldn't take on one of the Emperor's Finest, despite his bragging about taking on a whole fully armed Imperial Guard company by himself with nothing but his fists. All the other Mercenaries under Laurs' command had a wager on where Gol's revered weapon came from, bidding as high as betting their own weapons. A Mercs weapon was a sacred artefact, the most important object in their lives, so using it as currency in gambling was almost unheard of when Laurs started out in the trade. But his newly acquired crew seemed a little green anyway, and too cocky for their own good. Laurs knew he should have asked for more hazard pay before accepting this contract, seeing as though his new unskilled muscle would probably get him killed, or even worse, try and kill him and collect his pay in his place. Laurs had 'had to deal' with that certain annoying habit of Mercs a fair few times in the past. Gol motioned with his hand for Laurs and the rest of the Mercenary team to follow him as he scanned to empty lift shaft. Gol was Laurs' second in command, and the closest thing he had to a friend. Laurs approached the lift shaft cautiously. He'd been doing everything cautiously since he got here. His short stint in the Imperial Guard had told him that abandoned outposts were always a bad thing, no exception. The shaft was empty. His dark eyes darted back and forth between the lift shaft and the wide corridor scattered with his few dozen or so crewmen. They looked back at him, some a little nervously, some a little more questioningly.

"Get the scaling guns…" Laurs whispered. A couple of the men at the back abruptly un-hitched a few odd looking guns from their backpacks and passed them to the front. Laurs looked at Gol and said "You first mate, take Haler and Roubes with you. I'll come up next with Kilk and Finnly. The rest of the team can stay down here and protect our escape." Gol nodded, holstering the scaling gun to his shoulder, aiming up the lift shaft. Haler and Roubes did the same with the other scaling guns, and all fired upwards simultaneously, the tentative titanium hooks plummeting up the lift shaft, slowing towards the top, and gently hitching onto the top floor. Looking down the shaft, there was a small drop, and the lift suspended near the bottom, most of the cables still attached, but some had broken and snapped. These were super alloy cables; nothing short of a direct hit from a tank shell could snap these. This lift was obviously broken for a reason. Laurs was _really_ starting to not like the look of this. Silently, Gol and his team and switched the retracting mechanism on the guns on, and were now rocketing upwards to the control post on the top floor. Meanwhile, the rest of Laurs crew who were staying behind had put up small temporary blockades on the corridor with uprooted metal flooring and large, loose control panel coverings on the wall, and were now covering the length of the corridor they had just traversed down. Laurs turned around back to the shaft just in time to catch the scaling gun that was thrown down to him by Gol, who was now kneeling at the top of the shaft with a grin on his face…

"Enjoy the ride, Laurs!" Gol could be very sadistic sometimes; he knew Laurs didn't have a head for heights, even though he was a starship Captain. It wasn't so much the height that bothered him; it was the change in air pressure and the sudden dizziness of vertical movement. Laurs stocked and fired the scaling weapon back up the shaft, his two man team following shortly after him. He was suddenly jerked skywards as he pressed the retracting button, being steadily pulled towards Gol's eager open hand. Reaching the top, Laurs took Gol's hand and the massive ox pulled him into the charred and shattered remains of the control post for the outpost, the shock and bullet proof windows completely disintegrated, all the control panels and auspex equipment broken beyond repair or completely vaporised. Laurs stood in awe as Gol gave him the guided tour.

"Over here should be the auspex reader for the whole northern side of the planet, but look, its not here, destroyed by whatever god-forsaken ordinance hit this post! And over here is even more interesting, because the computer reading EMP bounce off starships in this sector around the planet is completely gone, but not by the explosion, it's been physically removed… look, you can still see some loose wires and the a greasy outline on the floor where it used to be…" Gol was right; this terminal had been physically removed by someone, but why? The outpost crew would have been killed by whatever hit this station, so who would take the computer that should have warned the outpost that danger was coming in the first place? Everything was starting to get far too out of place for Laurs.

"Oh," Gol added "here's the history log that our employers wanted…" Gol handed Laurs a small blue data slab.

"That's it, I've seen enough. We know what's happened here, let's get back to the ship and get our…" trailing off suddenly, Laurs was left staring at the high pitched whiny aircraft that had cut his orders short. The cockpit was sun-tinted, and the two giant thrusters at its side illuminating the room brighter than the fading sunset. Its guns were aimed at Laurs' torso, emphasised by the targeting laser visible in the dust cloud that the craft had kicked up. She bore the eight pointed star.

"Damn it, down the shaft, now!" Screamed Laurs. Everyone except Haler and Gol had grabbed the scaling guns, and attached the hooks to the control post lift entrance, preparing to scale down the lift shaft. Suddenly, the whiny aircraft's guns were now becoming even higher pitched than the aircrafts engines, glowing blue streaks pulsating up and down the tubes of the gun barrels. Gol and Haler were edging back to the lift shaft, their almost pathetic small weapons aimed nervously at the hovering demon. The rest of the team were just about to launch themselves back down the shaft, then Laurs ordered:

"Wait up, we gotta hang onto you!" Kilk, Finnly and Roubes just acted like they hadn't heard him, and jumped into the dark chasm, leaving Gol, Haler and Laurs to face the aircraft with embarrassed uneasy smiles on their faces. The guns opened up, screaming at them to die, blue bolts piercing the evening air and shattering the lazy dust swirls in the control room. Laurs dived behind an overturned console, while Gol, ever the proud maniac, fired back with his bolter in short bursts. Haler was caught in the aircraft's initial firing, and was turned into a soft slushy paste in mere seconds. Gol looked over at Haler's remains while still firing at the aircraft, looking terrified and irritated at the same time. He quickly moved over to a small corridor leading to an open balcony outside, still firing. The aircraft's guns attempted to lead him, but instead whistled harmlessly behind him, failing to get a hit. They splashed over a working display screen, and it exploded into a million slithers of liquefied glass, which managed to slightly melt the wall behind it. Laurs quickly leapt up from his cover and fired both his plasma pistols back at the craft, hitting the side of the cockpit. The craft spun towards him and opened up again, with renewed fury, and started to chip away at his cover and making the air around him stink of o-zone and melted metal. Laurs shot Gol a brief urgent look, and nodded towards the aircraft, but Gol was already gone, sprinting towards it firing from the hip. Tracer rounds were hitting the cockpit's dome in pinpoint triple burst hits, causing slight cracks on the dome. The aircraft tried to swing around and aim at Gol, but he leapt out from the broken control room and over the small distance towards the aircrafts glass compartment. Landing on his feet, still firing, his sheer weight managed to tilt the aircraft slightly, and combined with the armour-piercing rounds of his bolter, cracked the cockpit dome enough for the bullets to actually enter. Gol crouched down and squeezed a few bursts into the cockpit, then threw himself backwards onto the control room, covered in blood that had squirted out from the hole. The jet started to sway left and right, until finally, it spun right round and plummeted down out of sight of Laurs. The evening became suddenly very quiet, broken only by a bass-heavy crunch coming from outside a few seconds later. Laurs stood up from his cover, and looked at Gol, his brown fatigues and sagging black carapace armour splattered in red. They both moved towards the shaft, glancing back outside a few times to make sure the aircraft wasn't there any more. Laurs, then Gol, jumped into the lift shaft, grabbing the lone elevator cable still intact, and slid down, their black chelon-leather gloves allowing them to grip hard and slow their decent. Finally, Laurs launched himself away from the cable, and landed in the corridor with the rest of his team, staring at him like they saw a ghost. Laurs took a few steps forward, and Gol landed behind him. Kilk, Finnly and Roubes we in a circle with some of the others, obviously like they were discussing what to do now. Laurs drew one of his plasma pistol, and shot Kilk and Roubes straight in the face. Finnly fumbled about trying to level his las-rifle variant, with laser sight and auto-targeter, but Laurs just blasted him too. The three corpses lay in a pile in the corridor, strewn on top of each other.

"The same will happen to anyone else who disobeys a direct order." Laurs announced at his now uneasy platoon. They shuffled a bit, and gave out faint 'Sir, yes, sir'. Looking back at Gol's face, now in blank grimace, Laurs marched slowly past his men, and motioned them to follow.

"We got what we needed, let's get back to ship and leave this rock in our afterburners. We've already had a brief 'encounter' with an unknown hostile, possibly the Great Enemy, and that certainly wasn't in the mission summary! Let's go before we get forced to deal with more of them for no extra pay…" Gol lead the rest of the men behind Laurs down the corridor, and they all turned right at a crossroads a few dozen metres from the lift shaft. Laurs punched the control panel, and the main entrance doors squeaked open. He stepped outside, with his team following him, looking nervously at the crashed Chaos aircraft in the courtyard to their right. Laurs was looking around the deserted courtyard inside a 20 metre high wall, which used to be a group of four landing pads in a box formation, but a series of large craters and pockmarked debris rendered it out of action. Laurs had his surface shuttle parked somewhere just outside the wall on the desert-like planet surface, near the main gates to the outpost. Starting to cross the courtyard, the team moved quickly, with nobody noticing the eerie silence except Laurs, who continued to scan the craters and chunks of debris. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at a small black & grey object appearing out of a particularly deep crater slightly to the left of the main gates. It stayed there for a second, the bobbed down out of sight.

"Men, take cover now! Grenade launchers on the crater near the gates! Fire at will!" In response to his orders, fifty or so Chaos warriors appeared from various crates and pieces of cover throughout the courtyard, charging at Laurs and his team, firing from the hip and screaming blasphemous oaths for their dark masters. The mercenary grenadiers knelt down and aimed above the gates, firing in a steady rhythm. The grenades arced, explosions racked the gates and the craters and debris in front of them, bringing forth howls of pain, chunks of flesh and metal, and Chaos cultists on fire. A single Chaos Marine sergeant appeared from the crater, and growled so loud that blood came out of his raw throat. Laurs took a krak grenade from his pouch, and simultaneously fired a steady accurate stream from his plasma pistol, blasting a charred hole in the Marines armour. Lobbing it as hard as he could, Laurs's krak grenade whistled through the battle zone, landing neatly into the exposed Marines open belly. The explosion was a blur of black and red erupting from the Chaos leader. His armour toppled backwards, empty now except for smears of gore and black singes. The remaining worshipers continued to charge Laurs and his team, whilst the mercenaries took cover, went prone, or got ripped into steaming corpses by the extreme crossfire. The two sides continued to exchange firepower, with the cultists falling into attack and retreat pattern, and the mercenaries making strategic use of frag grenades and overlapping fields of fire to envelop the enemy, not allowing them to flank or advance too far. Unfortunately, Laurs team weren't adept at conserving ammo, and soon the fire eased off, resulting in the cultists making one final frenzied assault on the mercenary's position. A spread out hand-to-hand confrontation developed, and with both sides being unskilled in this particular method of combat, it turned into a mixture of fist fighting and clubbing the fallen with rifle butts. Whilst putting down the last of the cultists with what little plasma pistol ammo he had left, Laurs eyed a huge spider-like figure appearing from the partially disintegrated gates. A single large cannon loomed from its mouth, and it had several arms with various barrel weapons crudely wielded on its fists. It looked to Laurs like some sort of modified dreadnought, with various disgusting symbols and imagery painted onto its hull. Its inhuman whine attracted everyone's attention, and they all froze in fear as the machine staggered into the courtyard. Its array of hardware let loose a violent barrage of shells onto the mercenary force, vaporising whole bodies and turning equipment into splashes of molten metal. Everyone either dived for cover or hastily retreated to the relative safety of the outpost. Laurs and Gol threw themselves behind the same piece of upturned concrete, trying desperately to keep all their limbs out of the behemoths' view.

"Where's Hannel with the rocket tube?" Laurs shouted above the din.

"Not a fething clue, I think his launcher is lying next to that dead cultist over there!" Gol pointed out a completely empty section of the courtyard, with no cover for about ten metres in all directions, where a Chaos warrior had fallen, apparently trying to snatch the rocket launcher.

"Ideas?" Laurs asked.

"Frag grenades at his legs for a distraction, should provide you with a smoke shield to get to the rocket tube…" Gol suggested. Laurs winked an affirmative.

"Give me all the cover fire you can get!" He threw his remaining grenades over the tip of their cover, which Gol copied. Thuds racked the ground, and falling debris pattered the two men. Laurs charged before the rain of dust finished falling, sprinting for the launcher with every ounce of strength left in him. Gol raised his bolter over the lip of cover and sprayed wildly into the grey fog, and was answered by a salvo of explosive return fire. Laurs picked up the pace, every movement playing merry hell on his weary legs, tired pain coinciding with the feeling of moving through treacle. Why was it taking him so long to reach the rocket tube? Finally, he leapt forward, seized the launcher, loaded a rocket from the ammo pouch lying nearby, and levelled the tube on his bloodied shoulder. A bullet had caused a gaping wound there, which he hadn't noticed in the heat of battle. It silently yelled at him to stop, only to compete with all the other messages of soreness and exhaustion coming from his body. He waited for a clearer shot at the contraption. Out of the mist, like a dark predatory insect, the dark machine stepped out with malevolent inhumanity. Its torso turning to fire at some retreating mercenaries, knocking off some lose pieces of debris off its hull. The stark contrast of grey and black painted a perfect target. Laurs clenched his teeth, opened his mouth, braced to fire, kept his aim, and squeezed the trigger. The blast knocked him back to the floor, temporarily deafening him. He lifted his head, and watched in eerie silence as the missile eagerly screeched towards the foul Chaos monstrosity. It showered the war machine in a blossom of fire, which ravaged the inner workings, and ripped two unclean holes in its Emperor-defying shell. The secondary explosions of its munitions ripped it apart in a glorious orgy of destruction, which encouraged the whooping and cheering of the remaining Mercs as they clambered out from their hiding places. Laurs's hearing was coming back to him. Gol knelt next to him, looking at the annihilated wreckage, then turned his head down to look at Laurs and jabbed his finger at the rear of the rocket launcher. Just before he passed out, Laurs heard, in a muffled yell:

"It usually helps to open the tube's exhaust hatch!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Killers for Hire:**

**The Tale of Laurs the Mercenary**

**---------------------------------**

**The Black Crusades: Chapter Two**

He felt like he was floating. It was dark, and he felt weightless and light-headed. His body slipped in and out of memories. It was pleasant. He felt content. He remembered leaving home at eighteen. He had vowed that he would get his parents off that freezing planet, where they scrapped a living raising tundra vax, a type of furry, lazy, meaty mammal. He remembered his friends in the Imperial Guard, his time spent in the 512th Cadian Orbital Defence Force. He fought in many battles against Chaos, who were trying to destroy Cadia, and against Eldar, in the Macharian Xeno Cleansing Campaign. He remembered his first ever kiss, with a girl he rescued on his first mercenary mission. She was the daughter of a multi-billionaire hive merchant, who had been kidnapped by a gang of money-obsessed anarchists on Minotaur III. She was so grateful… and so innocent, at barely seventeen. He felt no sexual feelings towards her, it was more a feeling of compassion to someone who needed him so much. In fact, Laurs realised he never had any lustful feelings for anyone in his life. The only thing he had valued was life, in all its forms. That was, until his home was almost robbed by violent bandits when he was in his early teens. His father had fought them off, but Laurs's only brother was killed by the bandit's sadistic leader. Seeing how people could act in such disgusting disregard for human life had demolished his sheltered world view irreparably. That was what convinced him to join the Imperial Guard. A chance to destroy all that evil in the galaxy, to do what he always thought was the greatest good. But the level of inhuman leadership decisions finally forced him to desert. He found Gol at the Mercenary Recruitment Centre on Tallarn, and their friendship just seemed to 'happen'. They started their own Combat Mercenary band, and gained nearly a 100 percent mission success rate. Laurs remembered the girl again. His thoughts kept jumping around. The haze, combined with the feeling of flying, was difficult to control, but kept him smiling inside.

He continued in this state for a while. He had no idea how long, but he felt it was a deserved rest. Why was it deserved? Oh yes, he remembered the Imperial Outpost. Shooting his fellow (although cowardly) team-mates, the vile killing machines of Chaos, the sudden and gruesome deaths of everyone around him. He started to shake. He scrunched up his fate, feeling sick. He started to murmur 'No' louder and louder, and thrash and shake. The enemy was still with him. It was not only outside, but it was in his soul. And having nothing to cling to in life, no beliefs, he thrashed at it for no good reason. He simply felt he wanted to. He screamed at the shape changing monster, lashing out. It took the appearance of his well formed face. It mimicked his screams mockingly, then grinned. Then it seemed to look around, realising that something was pulling him from this dream-like state. It turned back to him, and gripped onto him to keep him in this dark nightmare. Slowly, Laurs slipped from its grasp, and it laughed manically, knowing he would not be gone for long. The feeling of weight returned to Laurs, and the bright glare of lights filled his vision. A face was before him, a charming middle-aged woman, gently bringing him back to reality.

"How are you Laurs? Can you hear me?"

He nodded meekly, her warmly Low Gothic accent making his slow decent back to reality that much easier.

"I've given you some stim. You should be able to get up in a minute. Your hearing will be okay in a few days, the hammer bones are a bit strained. Try to avoid anything loud." She held his shoulder. Laurs managed to mutter a reply through his parched lips.

"Thank you Kieris. Now see to any other wounded we have…"

She nodded, giving him a smile and a friendly wink. Laurs smiled back. Kieris moved away to look after someone else with her medicine of kindness and soft vocals. Laurs moved his legs and arms a little, and then continued to rest.

**---------------------------------**

"Gol, how we doing?" Laurs strode into the command bridge with authority, admiring the professionalism of his crew. Gol turned from a maintenance panel in the centre-left of the room, and nearly saluted the Captain.

"Ha, very nearly got me that time Laurs. Yeh, we're doin' good. I suppose you remembered everything that happened at the outpost? Well, we're nearly back at Jucha, and we're going to contact Yves soon to tell him we have the history log. We suffered fifteen casualties at the outpost, so I recommend we get a few more men before we head over to Memphis E to deal with that Dark Eldar incursion. Could do with some night vision gear and trained snipers too." Laurs shifted a little at the door, and then moved next to Gol.

"They don't come cheap Gol, but if I know Eldar, then I guess we'll need them. Okay, you sort that out, try the Merc Recruitment Centre first, then go to Ingui if you're really desperate. He might have some low-life ex-gangers who can get the job done. Just… let's just get this job done first. One thing at a time…"

Gol nodded, and hit the video-vox dialler. The transmission bar filled up slowly, then the head of a wiry bald man in a Colonels uniform crackled onto the main screen at the centre of the room. Laurs stood in front of him, arms crossed and legs apart.

"Yves, we got your history slate. Had a run in with Cultists too, lost more than a dozen good soldiers to the crossfire. So, triple pay for me and my remaining crew?" Yves seemed to sway slightly on his feet, thinking.

"Yes. Fine. Just bring that data slate here quickly. My superiors are very anxious to get their analyst's to… analyse it." He blinked rapidly and licked his dry looking lips. Laurs was took aback a bit.

"Well… good. We'll be planet-side in a few hours. Meet you in your office. Have the credits ready." The screen flashed off. Gol stared at Laurs.

"Yes Gol, I know, I don't think he means to pay us. Didn't haggle, even a bit..."

"So what do we do?" Gol resumed to looking at the now powered-down main screen.

"Keep a fire team ready and concealed across the street from the good Colonel's office. If I don't come out of there ten minutes after entering, I want you to lead them in and get our damn pay. If I'm still alive, don't save me if it'll get more of our men killed. I'll escape on my own. Just get the pay, get to the ship, and wait for me." Gol simply kept his eyes on the empty screen and slowly nodded. His friendship was invaluable, Laurs realised. He didn't yet realise how priceless Gol was going to be over the next few weeks.

"So, how did I do?" Yves looked up from his video-vox screen, trembling a little before the Inquisitor. "I served the great God-Emperor of mankind to the best of my abilities; may I resume command of my regiment now, if you don't mind me inquiring?"

Inquisitor Venton glaced at his second in command, Psyker Lina, and then held his bolt pistol up to the Colonel's forehead.

"You have served the Emperor well, Colonel Yves of the 211th Mordian Iron Guard, and the time to take your place beside him is now at hand. You understand that this is for the security of our mission. Farewell comrade…" Yves was still pleading and sobbing when Venton squeezed the trigger. Lina wiped some blood splatter off her face, and then went to get the Inquisitor's aides from the foyer to clean the mess. Venton looked down at the ex-Colonel still sitting in his ornate chair, and then knelt beside him, closing his eyes with his bloodied hands.

"It was… for your own good…"

**---------------------------------**

Laurs's interstellar cruiser touched down in Jucha East Docks E63, and was almost immediately jumped upon by port servitors, eager to fix her up and refuel her. The exit ramp on the port side of the ship extended and hit the dock platform with an empty clang. Laurs, Gol, and twenty or so men thudded their way down the ramp, each footstep echoed by the wobbly shuddering of metal. Gol turned to Laurs.

"Ship should be ready to take off within an hour or so. No space combat this time, so repairs will be minor at best. I'll get Redo to re-arm the men at the weaponsmiths', and Kieris will look after the ship while we're away." Laurs smiled a little.

"Yes, thank you Gol. Feel free to take that tree out of your ass while you're here. You could use a rest after we get our pay. If there's no trouble with the collection, we'll go to the local sacra-bar for a few rounds..." Gol laughed.

"I think I'll need something stronger than sacra to get this metaphorical tree out of my hole, what with my physical build and all…" Gol rolled up his sleeves and showed off his flexing abs, which Laurs noticed had some strange tattoos on. They seemed to mark out power points on his body, and were still clear as day, even though it looked as if Gol was in his late 50's. But Laurs had more important things to ponder about than Gol's freaky body art. As usual, money was the big problem in his life. It wasn't that he coveted it; he simply needed it to live. Not that he had anything to live for…

Laurs and his team hired a skimmer-shuttle from a local machine-merchant, and headed to the northern part of the city. The wealthy part. Fifteen minutes of dodging other skimmers on the velocity tubes, and they were at the 211th Mordian Headquarters for local system. Laurs parked the skimmer, and Gol and the team crossed the street to a fine antiquities & relic shop. They proceeded to feign interest in the many works of art and no-doubt fake priceless religious relics, much to the annoyance of uptight shopkeeper, obviously having no interest in 'browsers'. Laurs wandered in through the large marble and crystal glass doorway of the HQ, registering his appearance with the scripture-clerk. A guardsman collected his weapons, and he was told to take the boost elevator to the 238th floor, where Colonel Yves was apparently waiting for him. After going up a dizzyingly high altitude, all alone in the large, empty, extravagantly designed lift, he finally reached the Colonels office. The lift doors hummed open, and he stepped into a foyer fit for a lord-king to wait in. The ceiling had holo-images of the Emperor in various heroic moments, followed by many devoted saints and holy soldiers. Lavish plants from as far away as Catachan lined the hallway, with a few richly varnished Jucha-wood seats, and accompanying tables, interspersing the brilliant flora and fauna. He paced down the hallway, trying not to feel out of place in such a disgustingly wealthy environment, and trying to make as little noise as possible with his hard vax-leather boots. The pair of polished hardwood doors opened up in front of him, and presented him with the most unnerving sight for any member of the Imperium of Man…

The legendary Inquisitor Lord Venton, plainly grinning, and an army of henchmen training a ton of hardware on Laurs's unarmed body.

Laurs slightly pissed himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Killers for Hire:**

**The Tale of Laurs the Mercenary**

**---------------------------------**

**The Black Crusades: Chapter Three**

"Laurs Holtiana, Captain of the class 3 combat cruiser XB-206 '_North & South_', leader of the Combat Mercenary group '_Browncoats_', mercenary licence code Gamma eight-five-eight-one?" Lord Venton asked, reading off a small data slate in his hand. He gazed up from behind the Colonels desk, in front of the huge thick glass window overlooking the rich silver city behind him. He looked as if he was unaware that his henchmen were still aiming at Laurs. Laurs felt a warm dribble moving down his inner leg. He had managed to get his bladder under control now, but he was still a way off from recovering the ability to speak. His mouthed moved, but nothing came out. Venton grimaced down at the small puddle slowly forming at Laurs's feet, and then ordered his men to lower their weapons with a gesture of his hand.

"We are not here to hurt you Laurs, we simply need you to answer a few questions. I am Inquisitor Lord Venton, this is my second, Pysker Lina." He indicated to a small youngish woman at his side. She was attractive, but didn't smile. "I am sorry to have startled you, and it's ok, you don't have to say anything to answer my questions. Lina is going to read your mind. Do not fight her, and we can get through this as quickly as possible…" At this point, Lina touched her bald head with her left hand, and weakly pointed with her other hand at Laurs, closing her eyes. Laurs felt a cold blast entering his mind, slithering and sliding around, yanking at memories and thoughts.

"He was at the outpost…" Lina murmured. Venton nodded.

"History log… attack by cultists… he fought hard to get here…" She murmured again. Venton held up his hand.

"Yes, yes, that is all very well. Laurs, do you have the history log with you?"

"Yes." said Lina.

"Well then, I command you to hand it over Laurs." Laurs very slowly and hesitantly, as if some other force was willing him to do it, slid his hand under his armour. Lina was obviously still in his mind. He tried to struggle against her, but his feeble attempts were shrugged off. Laurs pulled out the data slate. Venton marched over to Laurs and took the slate off him, and scrolled down the last two weeks records. His sharp blue eyes, blonde short length hair, and tall broad figure towered over Laurs's shorter height, mid length brown hair and slender figure. It looked as if an educatorium master was reviewing his student's examination results. Finally, Venton looked up from the slate, and handed it to a nearby henchman.

"Good, that is exactly the information we needed…" He stated to Laurs.

"Can… can I… pay, get paid?" Laurs managed too stutter. Everything was happening to fast for him.

"Ah, well, you have done a good job, and your service for the God-Emperor is commendable. Unfortunately, you have viewed classified information, and in the interests of keeping my mission a secret, you must be terminated…" Laurs tried to move, but Lina was holding him still.

"But… I swear, I didn't look at the history log…" He lied.

"Whether or not that is true is irrelevant. You had the opportunity to look at it, and that is more than enough evidence in itself. The human mouth is not the most subtle creature. You will tell someone, and they will tell someone else, maybe an unsavoury character… You see where I am going? You will die with honour for the God-Emperor, and you will be rewarded for it…" Venton took a step back, drew his bolt pistol from its holster, and aimed at Laurs's forehead. Lina allowed Laurs to close his eyes, but nothing else. His arms straight at his sides, unmoving, he waited in blackness for the inevitable end, muttering a prayer in the vain hope he could be absolved before meeting the God-Emperor. He heard a shot. He shuddered, face screwed up, expecting to cease living any moment.

Nothing happened. Slowly and cautiously, he squeezed open one eye. Venton was aiming to Laurs's left, at the doorway he had come through. All the henchmen were aiming that way too. Laurs realised he could move again. He was tensed up and it was hurting him, so he relaxed a little. Lina was lying on the floor, a trickle of blood coming from the right side of her head. Laurs turned around. Gol was there, bolter raised and aimed at Lina, with his squad, all crouched or behind cover, aiming at the henchmen in the Colonels office.

"Your ten minutes are up, sir." Gol grinned. Laurs beamed back.

"I'm pretty sure that was five…" Laurs turned back to the now slightly unsettled Inquisitor.

"Well, Venton, what are you going to do now? My boys are good shots…" The Inquisitor Lord glanced back, straight faced, to Laurs, then back to his team in the large double doorway.

"I could kill them all with only my bare hands, heretic…"

"Oh, I am a heretic now? I thought I was going to join the God-Emperor on his Golden Throne just a few seconds ago. I think you need to be more accurate in your judgement, Inquisitor, otherwise things like this happen…" Gol dropped his bolter and tossed Laurs his plasma pistols, which he caught behind him with expert fluidity, and he trained them both at the Inquisitor's face. Venton didn't flinch. Some henchmen aimed at Laurs now.

"This isn't helping you, Laurs. There's still time to put down your guns and receive the Emperor's judgement with a pure soul. Don't condemn yourself forever by shooting a servant of the Emperor…" Laurs's grin subsided a little.

"Ha… just between you and me, Venton, you wouldn't be the first servant of the Emperor I've shot. Play your cards right, you won't have to join my list of them." Laurs edged back. Venton did nothing to stop him. Laurs turned his head around to look at Gol, and mouthed the word 'grenade'. Venton fired at Laurs. Laurs instinctively dived to his right, behind a large potted plant. Everyone opened up. Las-fire and bolts sung through the air, kicking up wooden floor and green vegetation. Behind the plant, Laurs felt the pot in front of him shudder and crack as it absorbed bolts, no doubt from Venton's weapon. Looking to his left, he saw two of his men get thrown back and fall in the foyer, as slugs splattered through their torsos. Rich portraits of military figures on the wall split and partially disintegrated as stray shots jolted them from their moorings. The ground chipped and buckled from fire, and the wall spewed sawdust and flakes of wood. The room filled up with dust and smoke. The rest of Laurs's men were prone or behind cover, firing back at the Inquisitor's men. The room shuddered from the noise, and tracer rounds and red las fire started to pin the mercenaries behind their cover. The Inquisitor's henchmen were becoming focused by the cries of the Lord Venton, screaming battle oaths. Gol managed to reach into his belt pouch behind his cover of an overturned bench, priming a krak grenade. Laurs turned back to the office and fired blind out of his protection, into and beyond the plant. He was answered by wood splintering behind him and the pot shuddering more. Fragments of expensive pottery blasted all over him. Rounds whipped over Gol's position, leaving smoking trails hanging in the air.

Gol heaved the grenade over into the room. The shots fired by the henchmen subsided to a few mere blind shots as they all scrabbled for cover. Laurs used this moment of fear to scramble on all fours back into the foyer. The explosion threw him a little. The grenade had landed under the Colonel's desk, throwing it upwards. It spun vertically and flew forward. The large re-enforced window behind the Colonels desk shattered outwards, glass raining down onto the streets below. The flying desk crashed into the wall right of the doorway, exploding into thousands of pieces of varnished wood. The firing increased again, but nowhere near as intensely as when the battle first started. Gol pulled Laurs into his cover, and then leaned over the bench and blasted into the room with his bolter on full auto. Laurs sat on the floor, looking around at the foyer. It was a mess now, bolt holes everywhere, in the walls, the floor, the plants…

Just next to Laurs something skidded, metal on wood. He looked left and saw the history log, screen a little cracked, flickering blue light. The explosion had skimmed it along the floor to the open area just out of his cover. Braving the stream of gunfire, Laurs edged with his arm over to the slate. Something ricocheted into his hand. The adrenaline pumping through him numbed the pain enough so he could grab the slate. He pulled himself back into cover, and shouted to his men.

"Go back! Bound back to the elevator in pairs! Overlap fields of fire! Go!" In twos, his men sprinted back to the elevator, in what the survivors would later call the 'mile-long run'. Three men didn't make it to the lift. Laurs, Gol, and Terrin, a stocky man, shorter than Gol but almost as strong, were the last to make the run to the elevator. Gol was hit in the shin, and fell onto Terrin's side, who managed to support the man's colossal weight the rest of the way. Laurs pounded the ground floor holocon button in the elevator, while blasting down the corridor with his plasma pistol. The stench of burnt and melting plants was overpowering. Finally the doors slid shut with an almost sickening slowness, and the lift plummeted down to the ground floor. Gol sat down and began to nurse and bandage his shin, while Laurs wrapped some cloth around his bloodied hand. When he got out into the main entrance, Laurs saw the weapons collector unconscious on the floor, and the scripture-clerk bound up in the corner and muffling, trying to shout through his gag. The storage room behind the body of the weapons collector was empty.

"Yeah, free guns sir. Just couldn't pass them up!" said Gol, apparently reading Laurs's mind. "Got worried when I saw your pistols in there though…" He added. Laurs simply nodded. The team ran back into the hired skimmer and headed for the docks. There was no way they could stick around now that an infuriated Inquisitor would be hunting them down.

**---------------------------------**

Lord Venton wandered around the ravaged office-turned-warzone, kicking any of his men that were lying on the floor. The ones that were dead he kicked again, and the ones just tired from battle he kicked harder. Gore was everywhere, body parts left from the grenade, and blood splatters smeared the walls. The smashed window howled from the wind rushing out at this height. He strolled over to Lina, brushing off some dust on his gold armour. She had a small hole in the right side of her head, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Lord Venton knelt over her, stared at her closed eyes, and touched her cheek softly with his armoured hand.

"Rest now, young one. You will have vengeance. By the power of the holy Emperor, you will have vengeance…" He got up, turned around to one of his men checking the ammo in his gun, and hit him square in the jaw. The punched man fell to the floor. Everyone stopped what they doing, mainly checking the dead and recovering from battle, and stared at Venton.

"We must move out. Team one, get to the docks, try and stop them leaving the planet. Team two, follow me to my ship. We'll trace them if they leave the system." Venton ordered. Everyone gave him an affirmative. The man on the floor groaned. Venton looked down ay him.

"Get up, idiot…"

**---------------------------------**

"Gol Nuymn, that was the stupidest thing you've ever done…" Laurs laughed as the skimmer weaved in and out of the lanes on the velocity tube.

"Awww come on now sir, most of us got out fine! And besides, you got the data slate. I'm sure we can sell that to another uptight Colonel of the 211th Mordian!" Gol said, as he checked everyone else for injuries.

"Yeah sir, and we got a hefty supply of guns too! No need to resupply now…" Piped up Inwi, the squad's only plasma rifle wielder. Terrin and some of the other men agreed.

"Yes, that is fortunate, but by pissing off an Inquisitor you've all condemned yourself to 'judgement' if he catches you. And as for that slate, it's more trouble than it's worth. What the hell would an Inquisitor want with that history log? It just contains details of a random Chaos raid on that outpost, nothing of particular interest to a Daemonhunter or Witchhunter or whatever he was. Although, that outpost did have equipment removed for some reason, equipment useless to Chaos. And why were there Cultists still hanging around a place they raided a few days ago? It doesn't make sense…" Laurs mused. He looked around at his crew, who were looking like they were pondering it too. "Still, I guess Chaos doesn't ever make any sense! And I thought I said to not rescue me if it put any of you in danger…" Laurs counter-argued.

"Well, with all respect sir, I don't think that you could have escaped from that. Besides, we would have killed them anyway just to get paid…" Gol said, but trailed off as he looked outside the window at the back of the skimmer. A smaller military skimmer was speeding up on their six.

"Sir, the Inquisitor's men are behind us!" Gol shouted back to Laurs.

"Yes, I see them Gol. Aker, speed us up Emperor damn you!" Laurs shouted to the skimmer pilot Aker, the youngest member on his team at only 17, but a skilled driver. He strafed in front of a long, large trans-skimmer on the middle lane, and shifted up the power to the thrusters. The military skimmer behind them sped up, easily matching their speed. Both skimmers bobbed through the traffic, dodging civilians, and reaching speeds in excess of six hundred kph. The two bolters on the front of the military skimmer blasted into life, yellow tracers bouncing off the road and other vehicles. Laurs's skimmer wove through the steady lines of civilian drivers, avoiding most of the bullets. A few penetrated the rear window, hitting Jyre, rifleman and chronic gambler, straight in the cheek. Half his head disappeared in a red mist. Everyone dived onto the floor for cover. Gol knelt by the window and fired back with his bolter, and then with a multi-melta he had 'liberated' from the Mordian HQ. The multi-melta did the trick. Blasts splashed off the military skimmer, but even more went through its hull, hitting the stabilisers and the power converters. The skimmer spluttered. It slowed down with a few jerks, then plummeted nose down into the floor of the velocity tube. The crash was spectacular, metal debris flying up and forward, carried by the craft's momentum. The secondary explosions of the fuel torched two unlucky drivers behind it. Gol smiled at his new gun.

"Throne, I never got to play with one of these in the Blood Angels!" Everyone slowly looked up from the floor, staring at him. He then realised what he just said, and looked coldly at everyone, then back out the window. No-one knew what to say, except Laurs…

"Holy Emperor, you're Adeptus Astartes?" Gol said nothing. Laurs, who had been grinning, stopped now. He looked around at his crew, most of them open-mouthed and staring at the Space Marine deserter. Even Aker was staring at Gol in the rear-view camera. Laurs looked back at Gol, and his tattoos.

All he could say was "Huh."


End file.
